


Out of Place

by Tonko



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 08:12:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7161848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tonko/pseuds/Tonko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian comes upon a wedding in the Skyhold garden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of Place

**Author's Note:**

> A little kink meme fill, originally posted [here](http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/15543.html?thread=62045623#t62045623). Slightly edited since then.
> 
> Beta'd by [printfogey](http://archiveofourown.org/users/printfogey/profile), even though it's not her fandom. Any leftover errors are mine!

There was no announcement, no halting of any daily activities. It wasn't an Event as it would have been if it had involved two people of status. But it didn't, and Dorian almost walked right by it.

He was moving along the covered walkway that bordered Skyhold's garden, coming to harvest some of the spindleweed planted there. They had loads of it dried, but occasionally one needed fresh ingredients when one wanted to test the limits of electrical resistance draughts.

Under the tree near the middle, its red leaves merrily aglow in the morning sunlight, one of the Chantry sisters was standing in front of a small gaggle of people--no, he realized, as he took them in properly. The group was gathered around her and the two men in front of her. A lean and swarthy bearded fellow with dark hair gathered up in a braid, and a shorter man with cropped yellow hair, pale skin and a terrible sunburn across his nose, cheeks, and up to his receding hairline. 

They both wore simple but clean clothing.

Dorian stopped moving, drew a little back to lean on ( _not_ hide behind) one of the support columns. 

The Chantry sister was facing away from him, and the breeze rustling through the garden obscured her words so that he only caught the impression of her tone, fond and formal. 

Dorian had seen this before, these modest trappings and small gathering among the staff or soldiers here. Two people before a sister. A man and a woman, of course. But not this time.

The dark-haired man was grinning, uneven teeth bright against his beard, and Dorian watched him glance to the side at the sunburnt man, whose expression remained solemn for a moment, then came a glint in his eye and his whole demeanor softened visibly and Dorian felt his own face grow warm. For no reason. No good reason at all.

His eyes prickled and then he felt himself begin to glare, and had to avert his gaze lest anyone at that... that little…-- _wedding, it's a wedding_ \--notice and get the utterly wrong idea.

He turned away fully, aimed his altogether inexplicable fury at the stone wall of the keep. 

"The anger drowns the grief. Safer to glare than weep. If they saw me, I'd rather they hate than pity me. _But why can't I have this too?_ " 

The emotion snapped like a taut string touched by a sharp blade and Dorian clenched his teeth, then heaved a sigh, cringing internally at the shaking sound of it. He closed his eyes a moment, until he was sure his face would stay dry, and turned around again. Cole was sitting on the low wall that separated the walkway from the garden beds, facing the little wedding. 

In turning away, Dorian had missed some but not all of the ceremony. He didn't need to hear the words anyway, he just watched as the giddy tension rose visibly in the pair, and then suddenly the sunburnt man lunged for his taller... partner... his husband. They kissed enthusiastically but mostly appropriately. Then they broke apart, the dark-haired one laughing and apologetic, the sunburnt one wincing and amused, prodding lightly at what had to be tender skin on his face. The dark-haired man pressed a careful kiss on the corner of his jaw for good measure, and then the small crowd contracted as their gathered friends closed in on them, all smiles. 

Scattered other passersby had stopped to watch too, some serious or wistful-looking, some with curiosity or benign contentment, a few with ridiculously starry eyes and and hands clasped to their chests. No disapproval that he could see, not from anyone.

"It hurts to look at it, but it makes you happy too," Cole murmured, sounding relieved but faintly perplexed. He was leaning forward towards the ceremony like a plant growing towards the sun. 

"Yes, well. Envy is unbecoming," Dorian said, rather disliking the thickness in his voice. And as much as that bitter feeling still made a knot in his throat, there was a vivid fascination too. This wasn't the only pair of men he had seen interacting romantically here in the south, but it was the first in such an open and formal situation. 

A wedding. Wonder of wonders. 

The two men were both smiling widely now, holding small gifts pressed on them by their friends. The dark-haired one's grinning gaze wandered skyward momentarily, then around the garden, and crossed Dorian's.

Dorian had no glass to raise or any such thing, but he sketched a sort of saluting gesture with one hand and returned the smile, finding the expression suddenly easier to come by. 

The man acknowledged it with a polite lift of his chin, not seeming at all ill at ease to have had the 'Vint mage in eyeshot of his ceremony, then he was abruptly dragged around back to face the noisy, happy group. 

" _Libite ad gaudimonas,_ " Dorian murmured. _Pleasure on your joyous day._ A standard, empty phrase of congratulations for the newly married, at home. 

Never before had he meant it.


End file.
